Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Swaziland and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Nirvana to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
Kerrie Biddell,
Desert Stars,
Charles Mingus,
Joy Division,
Fluxion,
Eli Mardock,
Maurizio,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Section 25,
Barrington Levy,
Spoonie Gee,
Fear,
Toni Rubio,
Reuben Wilson,
Patti Smith,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dennis Brown,
Todd Terry,
Radiohead,
Von Mondo,
Chris Corsano,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Slits,
The Durutti Column,
Maleditus Sound,
The United States of America,
Gang Starr,
Mr. Review,
Prince Buster,
Gang Green,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kool Moe Dee,
Quadrant,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kurtis Blow,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Cowsills,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Modern Lovers,
Young Marble Giants,
The Alarm Clocks,
Hasil Adkins,
Faraquet,
a-ha,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Joe Finger,
The Leaves,
Angry Samoans,
Lower 48,
Eric B and Rakim,
FM Einheit,
Nik Kershaw,
Ponytail,
Shoche,
Camouflage,
Little Man,
Moss Icon,
Kerri Chandler,
Joe Smooth,
Nas,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.